Letting Go, Coming to Terms
by Gabigail
Summary: On the twentyfirst anniversary of Roxy's death, with Rube's help, she begins the process of letting go.


Greetings DLM fanfic fans! My latest offering is a tale that surrounds Business Unfinished where we get a glimpse of Roxy's death. So fair warning to those of you who haven't seen it, it's a bit of a spoiler.

Please R&R

Characters: Roxy, Rube and the rest of the gang

Genre: Angst/heartache/whatever else the title implies

Disclaimer: Dead Like Me and its characters are the creation of Bryan Fuller et al. and copy written under MGM/Showtime/etc. No infringement of their rights is intended. The stories written under the penname Gabigail, however, do belong to me. None are written for profit and are intended for entertainment purposes only.

Letting Go (Coming to Terms)

Like I told the guy I gave the parking ticket to a few weeks back. You don't know me. Well, maybe you think you do. My name is Roxanne Harvey, or Roxy as most people call me. And my day job, or cover, whatever you want to call it is meter maid. But my real job, if you dare, is that of grim reaper. Another thing I'll share with you. I died in nineteen eighty-two over something we now call a legwarmer, how messed up is that? There are many things that I used to love, my first love, however, was dance. Dancing always gave me a sense of freedom, a sense of expression that I had difficulty vocalising. I suppose you would probably beg to differ, seeing the way I am now, but I assure you, it took many years to develop.

Hearing the rain as it pitter-patters against my windowpane, I sigh heavily and roll onto my side, quickly looking at the clock to see how much time I have before getting ready for the day. Lucky for me, the rain should be gone before I make my way out; I can't stand getting soaked to the bone. Sure I can't catch my death or anything, but rain always messes with my hair. Besides, I work outside for most of my day, you try using an umbrella and writing a ticket at the same time. Putting those thoughts aside, I close my eyes, but cannot help but relive the night I died. The night everything changed. The night I became a reaper.

It was a cold rainy evening, a thunderstorm was in the air, but I had nonetheless gone to the library to pick-up some books to research patents, marketing, and distributing my new product, seeing that I was already unable to fill the monstrous orders I had been getting on my own. Thinking back to that night. It was on my way back to my room that I bumped into this really cute, kind of odd guy, who had asked me out to a movie. We exchanged numbers to confirm our plans, but obviously that wasn't the case, and he must have plucked my soul when we exchanged papers.

"Talk to you soon." He had said with a wave as the door closed behind me.

Lying across my bed, I read through the patent book, I suppose I didn't notice my roommate Lacy enter my room.

"Still trying to re-invent the sock?" Lacy asks.

"And I'm getting paid like a high-class hooker as well. I made three hundred bucks last week." I reply happily at my good fortune.

"That's nice." She replies, I should have noticed the envious ice in her tone, but I had been so wrapped up in cultivating my idea that I missed that cue. I didn't even notice her re-enter my room and she must have picked up one of the legwarmers I had been working on for Shelly, because the next thing I know is that I'm being strangled by it. I try and reach out for the pair of scissors that rest on my nightstand, but it's of no use. I died over a freakn' legwarmer.

I awake with such a start, I swear had I not already been dead I'd had a heart attack. Cold beads of sweat make their way down my brow and my body shakes uncontrollably. Sitting up, I throw the covers off and make my way to the bathroom to shower, do my hair, and put on some make-up. Being eternally thirty-eight does have its advantages; I smile looking at my reflection in the mirror. Any further lines or wrinkles will not encroach on my face, just wish that I didn't have to put on that damn uniform everyday. Maybe I should play hooky and get some other things done today, I muse making my way to the waffle house to meet Rube and the rest of the crew.

I stop at a shop not far from the restaurant and buy a few helium filled balloons for my crew. I'm actually feeling quite generous today, I won't say happy, because how can I possibly be happy? I enter the restaurant to find my crew sitting at our usual table, Rube holding court, or at the very least trying in the chaos that is Mason, Daisy, and George.

"Oh I do Darlin', have a sausage patty." I hear Mason say as I stop on the opposite side of the divider

"Good morning. One for you." I place a balloon in front of George. "One for you." I put a shiny silver star in front of Rube, who looks up at me with suspicion. I ignore it. "One for each of you. A catch full of helium and love." I sit beside Mason in wait for my assignment.

"What's the occasion?" inquisitive little George asks.

"I'm guessing she had sex with a carnie." Pain in my ass Daisy says. Most things that come out of her mouth are of a sexual nature. I don't stop myself from thinking that someone really ought to fix that.

"Why do I need to have an occasion to spread the love?" I innocently ask.

"Because you are an ornery bitch and you eat puppy dogs for breakfast." Mason says in his scared of me tone.

"Oh stop, I'm just in a good mood. How is everyone this fine morning?"

"She has got the grin of a lady on Vicadin. I have got an A blinking in my pocket, if you have go some to spare."

"This is not about drugs, or sex." I stare Daisy down. "I just feel giving. Is it too early for a souvlaki?"

"How would you like to buy a dead girl breakfast?" George asks.

"Sure babe, anything you want." I notice Rube go through his planner and check something before handing out the Post-its, and I cannot help but notice my there lack of said Post-it. "No Post-it for me?"

"You have the next two days off." He says simply hardly paying me any attention.

"Why does she get the next two days off?" Daisy says in her slight whine. Stupid Mason can't leave well enough alone either.

"Why does she get two days off?" he has to chime in.

"I'm okay Rube." I say, in an attempt to convince myself more than him.

"Daisy will take over for you." He says handing her a few extra Post-its.

"Take over for her! NO and no means no." she smiles and leans over the table a bit. "Powerful isn't it? I learnt it doing a PSA about date rape." I can see that Rube isn't impressed, nor taking her crap this morning.

"I'm your boss and you'll do as I say. Equally powerful, isn't it?" he says in his no nonsense tone, which basically means, if you have a problem with it, I have a problem with you. Daisy should just shut up, but she's not that smart.

"Look, it's nothing short of obscene to think that I Daisy Adair, am going to do double time for a woman that wears that dreadful little hat and orthopaedic shoes." She looks down at her Post-it. "Although a trip to the Point Grey Club does soften the blow." She smiles brightly.

"Rox, talk to you later?" Rube asks in a hushed tone and I nod my ascent. Poor George thinks I've forgotten about her breakfast.

"Do I still get breakfast?" she asks in a small voice. I nod my response before getting up to go.

I make my way to work, find that I will once again be working the same area for yet another day, and make my way there. I drive up the street and seek out the usual offenders. Standing beside a car I've given a ticket to at least half a dozen times, I hear his voice.

"Miss, miss hold on! I'm coming, for the love of Jiminy Cricket, why can't you ever give me a break?" he asks.

"You're taking it personally sir, it's not personal." I reply calmly.

"How about you personally tear up that thing?"

"I already wrote it, it's done. What's done is done." I reply simply knowing the truth behind my words.

"I was just going to move it."

"You were not going to move it. I know this vehicle, I see this vehicle everyday; you were just hoping that you weren't going to get a ticket today. But you are. Getting a ticket." I rip the paper from the little ticket writer and lift the window washer blade to place it underneath.

"Well maybe today is different. Maybe today you could tear up that ticket." He pleads. I actually feel for him and something makes me want to be bad.

"Maybe today is different." I say ripping the ticket into pieces and tossing those pieces into the air like confetti. "Have a nice day." I add.

"Thank you so much. I'm sure there will be some karmic reward down the line." He says naively.

"I doubt it." I say, "and you're welcome." I add over my shoulder before heading back to my little ticket mobile.

After a morning of handing out tickets, I figure I can clock out and do a few things for myself, someone I haven't really given much thought to. Do a little shopping, get a few things, and a manicure would be nice. I park the ticket mobile in the garage and call my supervisor before heading off. Funny how the waffle house seems to drag you back, even when you want to stay as far from it as possible. Perhaps it's just the need for a good cup of coffee, I don't really know.

"Where were you this afternoon?" Rube asks sitting himself beside me at the counter.

"Handing out parking tickets. That's what I do, you know?"

"I didn't see you on the street. Supervisor said that you knocked off early, you called in sick."

"Oh playing a little hooky today. Just chilling, you know. Some shopping. I have a to do list too, you know. Should have gotten the French tips." I say as I get out my nail file.

"What do you think you're doing?" he asks shaking his head.

"I'm doing my nails. Then I'm going to drive to Wal-Mart as they are having a sale on bundt cake pans, I do love a delicious bundt cake. I'll make you one if you like." I say, knowing that food is one of his weaknesses.

"Careful there sweetheart, a thousand housewives have tried and failed this shtick."

"What shtick is that?" I ask.

"Smiling, keeping busy, trying to bullshit their way out of an existential crisis." He says. I can't stand it when he's right either; it really gets under my skin.

"I'm not having a crisis Rube." I say in my defence.

"Hmm. You're mourning. It's all over you." He says in that quite tone. The one that sends that shiver through you, because he's right and he knows it, and he knows that you know, he knows it.

"What do you want me to do? Go to church? Wear all black? Say freakn' rosary?" he shakes his head.

"Acknowledge your grief." His answer simple, but tell me something, how easy is it to grieve for yourself, I cannot help but wonder.

"Everybody grieves in a different way Rube. I don't have to tell you that."

"Yours reeks of avoidance." Once again hitting my last nerve and the nail on the head with that comment.

"I can't change anything in the past. I don't know why we have to keep going over it."

"Well I'll be ready for you when you are ready." He says simply.

"Messed up my manicure." I curse under my breath.

"I'm sorry."

"I'll still make you that bundt cake. Okay."

"I'll be home tonight." He says before leaving me and making his way to his reap.

My shopping spree is short and sweet. Actually I don't enjoy it as much as I thought I would and quickly make my way home to make my bundt cakes. I make a lemon one for Rube, knowing that's his favourite in hopes of a quick and easy confession or whatever you want to call it. As it bakes, I am drawn to the closet where I keep an old, beat up cardboard box. Within the box is my life. I pull it off the shelf, blow the dust off the top and put it on the kitchen table, but I cannot bring myself to open it. I already know what's tucked within, so why bother pulling off the band-aid and causing the wound to bleed again right? I leave it to check on the cake, I definitely don't want to burn it.

It's strange how well a little jazz, a black dress and a box full of memories go so well together, I think as I find my black wrap and gather the things to take with me to Rube's apartment. Quickly picking up the phone to give him a ring.

"Hello?" he says, knowing that it's me.

"Hey."

"You're on your way Rox?" I can hear the smile in his voice. It's always a comforting thought that he understands me; it's strange how I nod before I say anything, almost as if I cannot find my voice.

"Yeah, I'm on my way." I reply and almost find myself smiling as I fight back the tears.

I bring the wrap around my throat and collect the bag that I've put the cake into with one hand, and make myself pickup and damn box with the other arm. Driving over to his place is fairly easy, but once there I sit in my car and take several deep breaths. Every year I do the same thing, every year I cannot seem to let go. Perhaps this year will be different, perhaps I will be able to forgive and let myself move on. Anger still hangs in my heart, but I will admit that this year it's a little less. I open the door and collect everything I need for this evening and head to the elevator. Stepping off the lift I admire the hallway, it's reminiscent of those really old buildings. Nice deep wood floors and woodwork, deep green walls and lovely doors with brass numbers upon them. I walk to the end of the hall and stand in front of his door, number forty-one. Funny how imposing that door is, it's all that separates me from once again facing my past.

I hear the soft music as it drifts under the door and I put the box on the floor to knock. Putting on my brave face, I await his arrival and I'm immediately greeted by his bright smile.

"Rox, come on in." he says as he picks up my box and moves aside for me to walk in. Nothing has changed, it's as I remember it. The dark wood floor and deep red walls, the fireplace with a dancing fire, the white sheets however, have disappeared and reveal a beautiful full length mirror and other pieces of furniture. He puts the box down and comes to my aid, removing my wrap and draping it over the back of one of his beautiful raspberry high back velvet dinning chairs. Stepping further into his apartment I take the cake to the small table and pull the bag off.

"You didn't have to do that you know." He says gently, but quickly goes to one of the cupboards and gets desert plates.

"I know, but I also know that you like deserts." I say with a slight smile.

His eyes light up as I cut into the cake.

"Now that's a nice bundt cake."

"I learned it when I was a kid." I reply, recalling the importance of cookery. He barriers his piece with whipped cream and we move to sit in front of the fireplace where Rube has already set that damn cardboard box. The area rug is soft on my knees as I place my plate on the box and settle myself.

"I thought this would be the year that I would let go." I say as though I meant to, that I really tried when in reality I hid myself from it, until this very moment.

"What's it been, twenty years?" he asks me knowing full well its twenty-one, but then again, whose counting anyways? I sure as hell shouldn't.

"Twenty-one." I say quietly.

"Maybe it is your year." He says before putting a piece of cake in his mouth. I'm not so sure, I mean why not last year? Why not the very moment that I became a reaper? What makes this year so different? I wonder as I take a bite of my own cake. It is good, haven't lost my touch, a slight smile caresses my lips. It quickly washes away though.

"Why Rube? Why this year?" I cannot help but vocalise my inquiry.

"Because life is too short, and death is too long." He pauses, moving his plate off the box. "And twenty-one is a lucky number isn't it?" his smile is contagious and too is his wishful thinking. He opens the box and fingers it's contents. "Come on, throw something in there." He adds with that twinkle in his eye.

I look at the contents of the box, contents that I haven't laid eyes upon for twenty-one years and pull out a VHS tape, VHS or Beta? I don't remember, doesn't really matter.

"Jennifer Beals," I say wistfully, " she wore them well."

"Who knows where she would be without you." He says as he takes the tape from me and tosses it onto the fire. The crackle gets louder in protest to the added weight, but the simmering sound of the plastic makes me think of the day I showed off my new invention.

_Finishing up a dance class, I sit myself on the bench in the locker room and put on my cut-off socks._

"_What are those fool things on your legs?" Cassandra asks with a wide smile._

"_I cut the toes out of my socks. Check it out." I say showing off the colour combination I had created with a few different coloured socks, teal, pink and white. Amelia, another girl in my class comes over to look._

"_Wow those look cool! Do you sell them?" she asks with a smile and interest in my product._

That simple invention was not only popular, but a very efficient murder weapon, but then again, had I the chance to grab the scissors, I assure you that the outcome would have been very different, but who am I to piss and moan over spilled milk. Right now, it's the death itself that I'm trying to make sense of and move on from. I rummage around the box again for a moment before my hand settles upon the murder weapon. I finger it in the box before picking it up.

"All for a freakn' legwarmer." I say under my breath before throwing it into the fire with the still crackling plastic tape.

"I know you're still angry Rox, and it won't get any easier until you let go of some of that anger." He reaches out and takes my hand in his. He's always been like this with me, but he'd never let the others see. Probably because he knows it will take away from my no nonsense reputation. I smile and squeeze my thanks. We sit for a while longer emptying the box. As painful as it is to actually part with some of the things from my past, I realise that's part of the course and with each item being creatively tossed into the fire, joining the tape, the legwarmer, the teddy bear, the letters; I begin to feel the slight lift of something as it releases me.

The music still plays in the background and we're almost onto the last of the items in the box.

"Together?" he says with an ever so warm and gentle smile. I nod and we pick out the final item in the box, my last pair of ballet shoes.

"They still fit." I say holding one beside my foot. Rube moves the box from between us and scoots over to sit next to me.

"I'm not saying that this is going to totally help, and if your not ready."

"How can I not?" I ask as he puts a comforting arm around my shoulders and I lean into him for moral support. Another thing he would never tell the others, that I'm actually human. I take another deep, cleansing breath and nod. I know that once I toss the last of my past into that fire, there's no turning back, but at the same time, I cannot help the reservations I'm feeling right at this very moment about parting with that part of myself.

"If your not ready." He prompts me to make my choice. I know what's best for me and together we toss the shoes into the fire. I'm not usually this emotional, but tonight something inside let go and the tears that I've fought against for all these years came. Rube has always been my sounding board, my confidant when I needed an ear, the person I've even yelled at, and once again, he's here for me now, holding me in his arms, letting me cry until it hurts. He doesn't judge me, nor does he say anything, only rubs my back and whispers in my ear words of encouragement. After my last sniffle, and probably his last tissue, I know that I have to make my way home.

"Come on." He says kneeling and holding out a hand for me to take, so that he can help me to my feet, which feel unsteady, almost foreign to me as we walk to the chair where my wrap is draped over. He holds it out for me and places it on my shoulders, resting his hands for a long moment before I make a move to wrap it around my neck. I head for the door, which he opens and leans against its frame casually.

"Thank you." I say before kissing his cheek. "Good night." I add over my shoulder as I walk down the hallway and press the button, and wait for the elevator.

"Good night Rox." He says with his warm smile and goes inside his apartment, closing the door.

I'm surprised that when I arrive home, I'm not all crying or whatever. I'm actually feeling happy. I cannot help thinking that maybe tonight is different and is a new beginning for me. It may not be immediate, but getting rid of the box filled with my past seems to be the best and most logical first step. I close the door behind me, kick off my shoes, hang-up my wrap, and head straight to the bathroom to prepare for bed and the new day ahead of me. Maybe I need to open myself to possibilities. Then things might change a little around here, I smile and tuck myself into bed, picking up the book on the bedside table, and read a few chapters before letting sleep take over.


End file.
